My education though fair had fallen short of Girton or a degree, and I was barely qualified to teach any but very small children. Had I but foreseen the future, I might no doubt have done better. As it was my position was only that of a kindergarten schoolmistress in St. Rudolphs. I do not think you can truly estimate a person’s disposition till you see how they behave to those who have the misfortune to be in subordinate positions, nor can you always tell a shoddy lady from a real one until you have discovered how she treats her governess and servants. Until I taught in St. Rudolphs I had no idea how thoroughly common were the majority of its so-called aristocracy, but one term was quite sufficient to show me that dealing with such hopelessly and innately vulgar people would be almost more than I could bear. It was therefore scarcely a matter of wonder--that when Christmas drew nigh--the Christmas after my first sojourn in St. Rudolphs--I was almost beside myself with joy on receiving a pressing invitation to stay at Catchfield Hall. Nothing soothes the sensitive nature of a snob more than to call other people snobbish. The parents of my children were of the middle class--middlish--snobs with a very big S, and should any one need a proof of the correctness of this assertion let me point to him the fact that whenever a moneyed person came to reside within any get-at-able distance whatever, the people I have designated as “snobs” made all haste to call on them; even the bishop whose object in coming to St. Rudolphs was obviously only “to confirm,” was inundated with invitations to dinner, and the rival claims to eligibility of those invited to meet him, were openly discussed at afternoon tea and bridge parties. Let me also add that their club, ludicrously labelled “select,” boycotted one of its members for some trivial remark, true enough, but like so many other homely truths better left unsaid, and that these very people who had sat in judgment, themselves indulged in the most scathingly rude remarks to those who for certain reasons were obliged to “grin and bear it.” Therefore I repeat again, the parents of my children were snobs, and being snobs would not allow any one in the humble position of a schoolmistress to say any thing that might in any way be construed into snobbishness. Depict to yourself then how indignant they were, and how I laughed up my sleeve when I let slip, quite by mischance you understand, the fact that I was going to spend Christmas with my near, my very near kinsman Lord Robert Wentworth. A schoolmistress related to a peer! How preposterous! how absurd! how snobbish! and they laughed at first scornfully, then incredulously--then pityingly, and I--I humbly bowed them out of the house, and running upstairs continued my packing. Vale St. Rudolphs! Welcome Catchfield!